


Keeping Up Appearances

by Defira



Series: In Her Shadows [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Relationships, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mission goes badly wrong and her master is left fighting for her life, Jaesa is forced to face some uncomfortable truths. Her position in the cutthroat world of the Sith is tenuous at best, and without the protection of a powerful master, who knows what might become of her- or of her beloved Vette, once a slave and now a free woman thanks to the Sith Lord they both serve. Slavery is just one of a myriad of awful fates that could await them.</p><p>Luckily, Tahrin is one step ahead of them, and proposes a trial by fire intended to harden Jaesa to the more ruthless aspects of Imperial high society- Jaesa will attend a political dinner in Tahrin's stead, the apprentice speaking on behalf of the master while Tahrin is indisposed from her injuries. It seems like a logical decision, and Jaesa did spend a number of years as a handmaiden on Alderaan after all, so she's hardly a stranger to prestigious gatherings. One would think that nothing could possibly go wrong. </p><p>Fluff and angst written for Femslash February/the Fembruary Challenge on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They knew something was wrong when the sun began to set and neither Tahrin nor Pierce appeared, or made contact. Quinn was antsy, pacing up and down in the cockpit, scanning the radio frequencies for any sign of trouble on the local channels, scowling ferociously at the planetary scans, as if he expected them to turn something up.

Vette was tinkering with something- it looked like a broken data pad, but Jaesa couldn’t be sure- and Jaesa was doing her best to concentrate on the screen in front of her. She was trying to read a treatise by the ancient Sith Lord XoXaan, something to do with dark side healing, but she could hardly focus on the words in front of her.

She realised she’d read the same paragraph four times already and slumped back in her chair, digging both hands into her hair in frustration.

“You’re tense again,” Vette murmured, her bare foot toying with the hem of Jaesa’s robe beneath the table. “You should relax more. I can help with that.”

Jaesa did her best not to blush, glancing sideways as Quinn stormed through the main room. “How are you _not_ tense?” she whispered, watching the Captain to make sure he was out of hearing before she continued. “It’s not like Tahrin to not make contact if she’s running late.”

“She’s a big girl, and she’s got Pierce with her. I don’t really blame her if she gets distracted with just the two of them out there, all alone, staring intensely at one another-”

“ _Vette!_ ”

“What?”

“They could be in danger,” Jaesa hissed under her breath, cheeks flushed. More than that, she didn’t particularly want to envision her master in such a fashion; Tahrin was so closed off and aloof, it seemed almost an invasion of privacy to entertain thoughts about her private life. “Aren’t you at least a little bit concerned?”

Vette stretched languidly, and Jaesa felt her blood heat a few degrees as she admired her lover’s lean curves. Vette winked at her, a smile playing over her lips, and Jaesa’s blush deepened. “Of course I’m concerned,” she said finally. “But there’s not really a lot I can do about it. Except maybe take advantage of the quiet time a little.”

“As if Quinn wouldn’t notice,” Jaesa muttered, scrolling back to the top of the screen and attempting to start again. Vette’s foot sliding up the inside of her calf did little to help her concentrate. 

Not even two minutes had passed before there was a harsh screech of static over the ship’s speakers. Quinn sprinted to the console as Jaesa and Vette lurched to their feet- mostly startled by the noise, more than anything. They crowded in behind Quinn as he scrolled desperately through the static, trying to lock in on the signal.

“My lord, are you there?” Quinn asked, his shoulders tight with tension. “Lord Dara, can you hear-”

There was another shriek of static. “-amaged... com.” The voice, though barely audible, was definitely Pierce’s voice. “... ambu-”

“Lieutenant, I cannot hear you,” Quinn said loudly, fingers flying furiously over the console as he tried to cut through the interference. “Where are you? Where is Lord Tahrin?”

Jaesa and Vette exchanged worried glances, and Jaesa was immensely grateful when the other woman took her hand behind Quinn’s back. 

“... holoco... ambush.” Pierce’s voice was marginally clearer, and he sounded _furious_. “... hurt.”

The last word was the most clear yet, and the tension in the room electrified. Vette’s gasp was audible in the silence. 

“Lieutenant, where are you?” Quinn asked, still trying to clear away the static. “Who is hurt? Is Lord Dara with you?”

There was no answer, only the crackle of the broken signal.

Quinn swore quietly, and lurched away from the console; Jaesa just barely got out of her way, reeling with the knowledge that she had just heard Captain Quinn _cuss_. She hadn’t actually thought he’d _known_ any swear words. She looked at Vette, who seemed just as shocked as she was, then shrugged and raced after the captain. 

“We’ll have to separate,” Quinn was saying, his tone sharp. He was speaking faster than normal too, another indicator of how stressed he was. “We know that they were heading towards the Lerantha Dam, but that was many hours ago. If we were to head in that general direction, fanning out to cover more ground, we may have some luck. Jaesa, you can go via House Thul and see if she has been seen there in the last few hours.” 

“What about the furry psychopath?” Vette drawled, strapping on her ammo belt as she trailed behind them. 

Quinn’s distaste was unmistakable. “Lord Tahrin left specific instructions that Broonmark was not to leave the ship,” he said tightly, his lips thin with displeasure. “It can stand guard- we are unlikely to have any security issues with it here to protect the ship.”

“You gonna tell him that?”

“I am sure the creature can be trusted to deal with any intruders without being asked.”

He disengaged the security code on the airlock, his hand going to his holster as if he expected to find enemies right on the doorstep. Jaesa felt Vette close behind her and groped backwards for her hand, taking comfort in her lover’s touch.

_Stars_ \- if something happened to Tahrin, what would become of her? Would she then be expected to serve Darth Baras, or would she be thrown out to fend for herself, as good as dropped into a manka cat lair? And Vette... surely Vette would be considered a free woman. Surely she wouldn’t be forced back into servitude- maybe they would assume that she had inherited her services, as her master’s heir?

She shuddered at that thought, horrified at the idea of even having to masquerade as master and slave. Her love deserved so much better than that. She would fight to her last breath to ensure she did not go back to that life.

Quinn set off through the airlock, but had barely gone two steps before he slammed to a halt; Jaesa ran straight into the back of him, and Vette into her. Biting her tongue to keep from snapping some ill thought insult, she instead looked over his shoulder to see what had stopped him dead in his tracks.

This time it was her turn to gasp, her hand going up to her mouth in horror.

Pierce was staggering across the hanger at speed, Tahrin held tightly to his chest. Their entrance had clearly attracted attention, and a handful of curious spaceport personnel appeared in the doorway behind him, watching the scene with morbid fascination. They kept their distance, however, and none offered to help with Tahrin. She was limp in his arms, her hand hanging loosely.

They were both covered in blood.

“What happened?” Quinn snarled, running down the ramp towards them, his face gone pale.

“Get up there and get your pretty little tools ready, you arse!” Pierce bellowed at him, his gait uneven. He staggered as he got near to the ramp, his face set with furious determination as he righted himself and barrelled up the incline towards them. 

Quinn had run ahead, obviously to prep the med bay, and Jaesa and Vette had to lurch out of the way to give Pierce the space to get through. Jaesa’s heart surged into her throat as she saw Tahrin up close, her eyes closed and her upper body slick with blood; she was all but lifeless. 

This woman was her teacher, her master- she was the strange and worldly older sister that she’d never been blessed with by blood. Sure, she showed little more emotion than a rock most days, and she was hardly the most affectionate woman she’d ever met, but Tahrin had given her so much. A future, a purpose, a home- a lover. Were it not for Tahrin, she would never have met Vette; her parents would have been prey to the first opportunistic Sith to come along hoping to drive her from hiding. 

Tahrin had given her _everything_ \- to think that she might die...

She couldn’t bear to think it. 

On a whim, she spun on her heel and pressed a kiss fiercely to Vette’s mouth, fear and desperation making her a little more forceful than she meant to be. She pulled back, taking in Vette’s stunned expression, before turning and rushing after Quinn and Pierce.

There was a trail of blood from the airlock to the med bay, and she skidded a little as she ran. Broonmark had heard the noise- or perhaps he had smelled the blood and violence in the air- and had crept out from the cargo bay and into the hallway. He made a gleeful hissing noise and she scowled at him and gestured sharply for him to go back into his lair. Tahrin may have trusted the brute, but there was a great deal about him that made her uncomfortable. 

He hissed at her, and babbled something in his strange tongue. With no hope of understanding, she stood her ground, pointing firmly at the cargo bay door. Making a sound that was not unlike a grumpy vorn tiger cub, he slunk backwards through the door and out of sight. Satisfied that Broonmark had obeyed her, she headed back to the med bay, to find Quinn with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, while Pierce waited stiffly just inside the door with Tahrin still in his arms.

“Get her on the bed,” Quinn said sharply, already laying out a half dozen different syringes and gels. Pierce didn’t argue for once, setting Tahrin down as delicately as possible. Jaesa didn’t think she’d ever seen the lieutenant ever so gentle before, his every movement slow and cautious. 

Not that she thought him a mindless, violent brute mind you. Well, not all the time- just sometimes. He did enjoy killing a bit too much for her to be entirely comfortable. But then again, Vette did enjoy stealing things and she loved her regardless. 

Life on a Sith ship was interesting, at the very least.

Quinn had already gone to work, a syringe in his hand and a swab in the other; the syringe went straight into her neck, the only exposed bit of flesh apart from her face. 

“Vette, get a knife and help me cut away her armour,” Quinn snapped, efficient even in the face of such trauma. “Jaesa, see to Pierce.”

“‘m fine,” Pierce said, but the way he slumped wearily against the spare med bay seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Is any of this yours?” Jaesa asked, grabbing up a canister of bacta gel and gesturing vaguely at him. “Any of the blood, I mean?”

Pierce chuckled, and then winced. “More than likely,” he said roughly, his breathing pained. There was definitely an open wound on his forehead, close to his hairline; it had been easy to miss with the gore smeared all over him. He was quite clearly favouring one arm, and there was blaster burns all over the front of his armour plating. “Most of it’s theirs though.”

He hesitated, and the way his eyes darted over to the deathly still figure on the bed told Jaesa all she needed to know.

_Most of it’s theirs- and hers._

She started applying the gel where she could, glancing at him sympathetically whenever he winced. 

Quinn ran his scanner over Tahrin, the little holographic over his wrist buzzing furiously as it processed her injuries. Vette worked around him, slicing away the close fitting leather to expose the wounds for treatment. “She’s got a perforated lung,” Quinn said quickly, setting down his tool and gesturing to Vette., who was in the process of removing her shoes. “We’ll have to get her into the bacta tank immediately.”

Tahrin seized up suddenly, her body arching as a gasp of pain shuddered past her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyes snapped open, panicked and foggy with pain. Blood flecked her lips as she panted for air.

“My lord?” Quinn was by her side in an instant, another needle in his hand as he quickly swabbed at her upper arm. “My lord, can you hear me? Are you-?”

“Pierce,” she rasped, eyes unfocused and agonised.

“Here, m’lord,” he said quickly, lurching past Jaesa and up to the bedside. She tried to scold him, trailing after him with the bacta gel still smeared over her fingers. Her hand was outstretched, feebly reaching in the direction of his voice, and he dropped wearily to his knees beside the bed, taking her hand in his. “I’m still here.”

She shuddered, and her eyes closed. Some of the tension left her, almost as if she were deflating. “Thought you-”

“Takes a lot more than that to keep me down, m’lord,” he said, her hand tightly enclosed in both of his. His hands dwarfed hers, and from the white of his knuckles, he seemed to be clinging on tighter than one would expect between a soldier and his superior.

Her face was twisted in pain, but she didn’t even flinch as Quinn injected the serum into her arm. “Good,” she whispered, and then fell silent.

“Touching reunions aside, we don’t have time for this,” Quinn said perfunctorily. “She needs to get into the tank now if she’s to have any chance of retaining her full lung capacity. Vette, you take her on the left, and we’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Pierce snapped instantly, “sling her into the tank, the two of you lugging her like a ragdoll? Sorry Captain, but not fucking likely.”

“Watch your tone when speaking to a superior officer, _lieutenant_ ,” Quinn said bluntly. “She doesn’t have time for your dramatics.”

Pierce shrugged off Jaesa’s attempts to peel him gently away from the table. “Fine then,” he said. “Let’s not waste her time. Drain the tank.”

Saying that, he elbowed Vette properly out of the way and scooped Tahrin back up into his arms, her head lolling against his chest. “I can lift her without hurting her, you can get on and do your bloody job.”

“Lieutenant-”

“ _Just shut up and get the tank ready!_ ” 

Quinn’s jaw was clenched so tight that he probably could have shattered diamonds between his teeth; the vein bulging in the side of his neck seemed like it was about to burst. He relented silently, fingers stabbing rather forcefully at the control pad on the tank. The fluid quickly drained away and he gestured for Pierce to step forward. 

Pierce set her delicately in the empty tank, and Quinn ducked under his arm to begin attaching the breathing apparatus.

“Don’t her armour have to come off?” Pierce said, indicating the thoroughly destroyed garment hanging from her shoulders. 

Quinn paled significantly. “I am not going to strip my superior officer,” he said stiffly, stalwartly doing his best to turn his back on Pierce in the tiny space in front of the tank . 

“How’s it gonna bloody well heal her lung if she’s got armour in the way?”

“Oh, for-” Vette stopped short of cussing. “Modesty can come later when she’s not dead,” she snapped, pushing past both of them and yanking the remains of the armour away. Quinn blanched quite noticeably and immediately averted his gaze, while Pierce grimaced unhappily and turned his back- but Jaesa did notice the way his eyes flickered quickly to Tahrin’s exposed skin before he looked away. 

Vette peeled off the last of the armour, leaving Tahrin clad only in her trousers. The wound responsible for the heartache was clearly visible, an ugly, weeping hole sitting beneath her right breast; Jaesa felt her stomach turn at the sight of it. 

And then Vette was slamming the door of the tank, the armour discarded on the floor, and the gel was pooling quickly around Tahrin’s bare feet. The blood made the gel cloudy, and as it rose up and over her face, her features became obscured by the murk.

“I guess we wait now,” Jaesa whispered to no one in particular.


	2. Chapter 2

It was funny how easy it was to find herself covered in blood, and how hard it was to get the damned stuff off. It stained her clothes, got under her fingernails- she scrubbed so hard at the sink in the crew quarters that she wondered whether she’d broken the skin, and the blood was her own. 

She couldn’t get it off her hands, no matter how hard she tried. It was stuck under her nails, a dark line just out of reach, and she didn’t realise she was crying until she felt Vette’s hand on her shoulder, heard her whisper soothing nothings as she pulled her away from the sink and wrapped her arms around her. 

Jaesa clung to her, her tears hot as she hid her face against her, crying quietly while Vette murmured softly to her, running her fingers through her hair, her every touch gentle and loving and comforting. 

“What if she dies?” Jaesa whispered, burying her face in the side of Vette’s neck. She breathed in the smell of her lover, trying her best to find comfort in the warmth of her arms around her. “What happens to us?”

“Tahrin’s not gonna die,” Vette murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Death is scared shitless of her- ain’t no one stupid enough to try in the whole galaxy.”

Jaesa chuckled despite the fear rolling around in her belly. “She’s not that bad,” she said.

“You should have seen her when I first met her. I wasn’t actually sure she had a heart- or at least, I wasn’t sure she kept it in her body.”

“Are you suggesting my master is some sort of robot?” 

“I’m pretty sure that if she isn’t at least part mechanical I’m gonna lose a bet to Plasmajack.”

Jaesa smiled and pressed her lips to the side of Vette’s neck. “I’ve never seen that much blood before,” she said quietly. Even thinking about it sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine- it hadn’t seemed so bad in the heat of the moment, but now that the rush had eased in her veins it was nothing but horrifying. The way the blood had cooled on her skin, thick and sticky and cloying. The smell in the air, the splatters over the floor that the ship’s droid was only just cleaning up now, his woeful lamentations about his precious master easily heard even from down the corridor. Death had always seemed such a clean and solemn affair, and was certainly not something that Master Nomen had ever allowed her to be exposed to if he could help it.

But this was violent and brutal and painful. It was real in a way that none of the deaths she had witnessed before were, even the ones she had caused at the nightclub on Nar Shaddaa. Maybe it was because she felt so helpless, so removed from the actual acts of violence, and left only with the agonising and bloody aftermath. 

Maybe it was because the Jedi Order had spent a considerable deal of energy lying to her, and doing their best not to expose her to the pain that existed in the world. Death was completely natural, she knew that- but death had always seemed to be something peaceful, never violent, never anything less than merciful and necessary. The Jedi had no place for chaos in their creed, and they had done their best to shield her from it.

She didn’t know whether she appreciated their attempts to protect her from the harsher facts of life, or whether she resented them for lying to her, giving her a false impression of the universe and her place in it. 

And meanwhile Tahrin lay unconscious in the next room, and she could do nothing to help.

She had never felt more helpless in her life.

Vette seemed to follow her train of thought without even asking. “Tahrin will be okay, okay?”

“What if she’s not?” Jaesa whispered, clinging desperately to Vette. “What if she dies? Do I have to find a new master? Will I have to be Baras’ apprentice? What if he can sense the light in me? What if they try to sell you? What if-”

“Hey hey hey, getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” Vette pulled back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes; she took both her hands in hers, and brought them up to her mouth, placing a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles. “No sense getting worked up into a panic before the blood’s even dry.”

Jaesa bit her lip. “I don’t think I could stand to lose you,” she said softly, desperately. Stars, she didn’t want to come across as clingy but it was the truth. It was bad enough to contemplate trying to survive in the Empire without Tahrin watching over her shoulder- trying to do it without Vette at her side?

All but impossible.

Vette’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling with merriment. “You’re sweet,” she said, “even if I know that’s a load of crap.”

Jaesa gasped, alarmed. “But... it’s true! I wouldn’t-” 

“You’d wipe the floor with their sorry Sith asses, and you know it. With or without me there.”

The fear in her stomach dissolved, and she laughed shakily. “But who do I have to swoon over my fearsome prowess, if you’re not there?” she asked, tugging Vette closer until she could touch her forehead to hers. “What’s the point of being the biggest baddest Sith in the Empire if there’s no one there to cheer me on and compliment my deadly mastery of the Force?”

“I’m quite certain that you would have a legion of sycophantic little sleens in no time at all, pawing at the edge of your robe and crooning how wonderful you are.”

“Ugh, but sleens get so big, do they want to curl up at the end of the bed? I’ll have to get a bigger bed- and then I’ll feel all lonely in it...” 

Vette smirked, and kissed her gently. “I really don’t know how you’ll cope,” she murmured against her mouth, kissing her between each word. 

Jaesa smiled, and Vette kissed the corner of her mouth. 

“I can’t do it without you,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she rested against her.

“You don’t have to,” was the reply.

It didn’t ease the anguish in her heart, the fear of separation against their will and the visceral horror that was Tahrin fighting against a wound that would have felled most Jedi within minutes.

She didn’t want to lose her master, and she didn’t want to lose Vette.

She had never felt so helpless in her life.

***

The sound of someone clearing their throat woke her up, and she blinked blearily, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. Vette’s arm was under the pillow, and she murmured groggily and tugged it free, rolling over to face the wall of the bunk. She was snoring softly in moments. 

The sound came again, and Jaesa grumpily cracked an eye open properly to find the source of the disturbance.

Pierce was standing by the end of the bunk, his injured arm in a sling and a sly smile on his face. “Ladies,” he said, tipping his head to them. “ _Good morning_ to you.”

Jaesa shrieked, sitting bolt upright so quickly that she nearly hit her head. She clutched at the blankets, pulling them up to her nose; Vette lurched upright at her panic, blinking unintelligently while her brain tried to catch up with her body. When she spotted Pierce at the end of the bed, she scowled.

“Piss off, Pierce.”

“Is that any way to speak to a friend? And after I was so considerate and all, coming to fetch you so that Captain Pisspot didn’t burst in on you.”

“But do you have to stare?” Jaesa hissed, keeping the blanket pulled up tightly.

Pierce shrugged. “Two of you left me to deal with dear little Quinn all morning, consider me not really in the most charitable of moods. Want me to throw my shoe from the other side of the crew quarters next time?”

“Maybe I’ll throw your ass out of here, how bout that?”

He grinned. “Knew you wanted to get your hands on my ass, sweetheart, you just needed to say so.”

It was Jaesa’s turn to scowl. “She’s spoken for,” she snapped.

Pierce adopted a surprised look. “Is she really?” he asked in astonishment. “Colour me shocked- I had _no_ idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, you smart ass,” Vette said, gesturing towards the door. “Go spend some more time with your favourite Captain.”

“You’re not funny, sweetheart.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Her lordship wants to see you, Willsaam.” 

That got their attention. “Tahrin’s awake?” Jaesa said, throwing the blankets aside without a second thought and lunging out of bed. To hell with modesty. “As in, alive awake?”

“What other kind of awake are you thinking of? Is that some crazy ass Jedi shit?”

Her robe was still lying discarded on her bed where she’d left it the night before, and she tugged it on over the top of her sleeping shift. “Is she okay?” she asked, ignoring his teasing. 

“She’s pissy as all hell, but that’s mostly Quinn’s fault,” he said, turning his back while the two of them got dressed. “Frankly I’m looking forward to someone else getting a tongue lashing- oh wait, you both already have.”

Jaesa rolled her eyes and pushed past him, while Vette tutted at him in mock disappointment. “You’re just jealous because I’m getting laid and you’re not.”

He staggered back a step dramatically, hand held over his heart. “You wound me, sweetheart,” he said. “Right in my manly pride.”

“I’m about to if you don’t get out of the way,” Vette said, waving her fists at him exaggeratedly. 

Jaesa smiled as she left them to it, heading down the corridor to the med bay. She didn’t quite understand the friendship between Vette and Pierce, and she would be a liar if she said she didn’t feel a little jealous at the camaraderie and the jokes they shared. Vette had seen a lot of the galaxy, and sometimes Jaesa felt quite sheltered in comparison; Pierce and his dirty jokes and boyish glee towards violence filled a void that she didn’t quite fit in, and she was grateful for the times he brought a smile to Vette’s face. 

Didn’t mean she wasn’t considering backhanding him with a touch of the Force if he made jokes about her girlfriend again.

She hesitated in the door to the med bay, knocking tentatively on the frame. “You wanted to see me, Master?”

Tahrin was sitting upright in the bed, face pale but her eyes cold and clear. She was alive, and whole- the rush of relief Jaesa felt was almost enough to have her sagging against the door frame from the immensity of it. Tahrin was alive, and awake, and in control of her mental faculties. Not only was she conscious and alert, she radiated irritation- it was probably the closest Jaesa had ever seen her come to sulking before. 

“Captain Quinn has informed me that I am unfit for duties for the next day-”

“The next three days, my lord.”

The icy glare she gave him would have made most men keel over dead. Quinn simply looked mildly uncomfortable and busied himself with a task on the far side of the room.

“Captain Quinn has informed that I am unfit for duty for the time being,” she corrected, although she quite noticeably did not acquiesce to his timeframe, “and as such I require you to stand in my stead this evening.”

Jaesa bowed her head quickly in acknowledgement. “This evening, master?” she queried.

“A political dinner, nothing urgent,” Tahrin said, waving her hand irritably as if to dismiss the significance of such an event. “A pointless and grandiose expenditure of credits, for the dark and powerful of Dromund Kaas to flaunt their influence.”

Jaesa hesitated before speaking again. “Apologies, master, but it sounds as if you have little desire to attend such an affair at all- why bother sending me if it’s not something you have any interest in?”

“Regardless of whether or not I have a personal interest in such affairs, it is important to maintain a presence amongst certain circles,” Tahrin said stiffly. “Darth Baras is laying the groundwork for his entry into the Dark Council, and all of his apprentices are vying for influence.”

“ _All_ of his apprentices? How many does he have?” 

Tahrin smirked, ever so slightly. “Significantly less than he did when he first took me on. I don’t appreciate competition.”

The implication took a few moments to sink in, and Jaesa did her best not to pale.

“Now, we will be arriving on Dromund Kaas soon, or that is my understanding,” Tahrin continued, “and you will need to see to it that you are properly attired for the evening. Captain Quinn will be accompanying you, and he will be able to-”

“Accompanying me? To the dinner or to get a dress?”

“To both. Captain Quinn is well versed in the intricacies of such affairs, and will be a stalwart ally for you throughout the evening.”

Jaesa looked across the sick bay to where Quinn was standing patiently, and tried not to cringe. The Captain was a handsome enough fellow, she supposed, in a bland sort of way, but his cold and severe demeanour was unnerving in a way that Tahrin’s was not. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t like him, because he was at least polite but, well...

“May I take Vette instead, master?” she asked hesitantly, trying not to wince in anticipation of the reprimand she was expecting. 

It was not immediately forthcoming. Tahrin didn’t react, not even a change in expression. “The Captain has spent many years in the sort of company you will encounter tonight, and will be a valuable resource for you. Are you saying you would discard such assistance in favour of taking a favourite?”

Jaesa swallowed nervously. “I... yes. That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

“Even though you will be facing Imperial Officers and Dark Lords and people who would not bat an eyelid as they crushed you like an insect in the middle of supper?”

“To be fair, master, I would probably stand a better chance of survival against such people than the Captain would.”

“Captain Quinn is much more likely to conduct himself appropriately for the duration of the dinner, whereas you have never been exposed to such machinations. Ergo Quinn has a better chance of survival because he is unlikely to find himself in any situations that pit him against the ire of a Sith Lord.”

Jaesa lifted her chin. “Nonetheless, master, I deserve the chance to prove myself. If you want me to stand in your stead and make the same impression that you would make, I’m unlikely to impress anyone when it becomes apparent I’m there with a holder.”

“And it will hardly impress anyone when it becomes apparent that you _need_ one,” Quinn muttered under his breath.

Tahrin fixed him with a cold stare. “Captain,” she said icily, “your input is not required.”

He nodded. “Acknowledged, my lord.”

Tahrin turned her gaze back to Jaesa, and she tried not to squirm under the weight of her perusal. “You realise what it is that you are asking,” she said bluntly. “I cannot save you if you are to make a transgression. If you stumble, if you fall, I will not be there to catch you. If you make a fool of yourself in front of the upper echelons of Imperial society, you risk not just your own reputation, but mine and that of my master. You risk your own life. Are you certain that you wish to ignore my suggestion and proceed with your own desires?”

“If I must be Sith, then I must be bold,” Jaesa said, her attempt at bravado ruined by the way her voice wobbled. “A Sith must not know fear. So I shall proceed.”

Tahrin smiled, ever so faintly. “Very well then,” she said softly. 

To Jaesa, it sounded like she’d just agreed to her own death sentence.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaesa had only been to Dromund Kaas once so far- just after Tahrin had recruited her, in fact, so many months ago now. It had been incredibly daunting to stand in the main square of Kaas City, hated stronghold of the enemy, and see it as nothing more than another bustling metropolis. Kaas City was the home of the Sith, seat of the Empire- it was a place of nightmares and power hungry tyrants, a place of slaves and blood and cruelty.

Or at least, that was what she’d been taught as a padawan. The reality was really not all that different from what she saw in Coruscant- the cruelty was a little more obvious in Kaas City, perhaps, but they at least did not shy away from the fact. There was just as much luxury and opulence sitting alongside poverty and hopelessness in Coruscant, but of course the noble Republic would never admit that corruption and decadence was rife within their ranks.

There was a brutal sort of honesty in Kaas City, in the way they didn’t flinch away from admitting to their faults. As Pierce would have said, they didn’t bother to dress up a turd and pretend it was a cake. But they didn’t go out of their way to clean it up either.

It was raining, which was apparently no great surprise- Vette assured her that it was more unusual when it _stopped_ raining. Jaesa shivered and wrapped her cloak tightly around her, doing her best to keep as much of the droplets away from her skin as possible. It was humid, the air thick like soup, but the rain itself was cool when it touched her. She was sweating, but she was cold- it wasn’t pleasant.

“ _Lieutenant!_ ” Tahrin’s voice snapped through the air like a blaster bolt, and Vette and Jaesa winced at each other. She did not sound happy. “I am _perfectly_ capable of walking- I demand you put me down this _instant!_ ”

“Simply following orders, m’lord,” came Pierce’s amused reply. They came around the corner and down the ramp from the spaceport, Tahrin held firmly in his arms just as she had been the day before. “Thought you told me I had to stop antagonising the captain and listen to him more often?”

She looked utterly incensed. “Not when I give you an order that countermands his! _Put me down!_ ” 

He shook his head. “I’m gonna trust the medic on this one- you got a hole stabbed in your lung not a day ago, you’re not gonna strain-”

“ _I said put me down!_ ”

“She’s going to kill him,” Jaesa murmured, watching them head over to the speeders to head into Kaas City proper.

Vette smirked. “She might have sex with him first.”

“I hear there’s spiders that do that. Although I have to wonder if Tahrin even knows what sex is.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that, or she’ll sit us all down at the table again and give us a lecture about how babies are made and what the chemical process is, and put up detailed pictures of sex positions on the holovid. And then make us do a written exam.”

Jaesa covered her mouth to muffle the worst of her snickering, and Vette was grinning slyly when Quinn came down the ramp. “What is so amusing?” he asked, gesturing for them to fall in behind him.

“Nothing important,” Jaesa said, trying to keep a straight face. “Just discussing how Vette might be able to help me with my study for any future tests our master might give us.”

Vette choked, and Quinn frowned. “I am most certain that Vette would be unable to assist you in the trials of becoming a recognised Sith Lord. She would hardly have the knowledge to further your education.”

Jaesa thought she was going to burst from holding in the laughter; out of the corner of her eye she could see Vette’s shoulders shaking as she fought to keep from laughing. “I guess you must be right, Captain,” she said, and when Quinn glanced at her strangely she almost lost herself.

“I shall make a note that you struggle to remain sensible under stressful conditions,” he said with a frown. “Our lord will need to know of such behaviour for future mission consideration.”

“Oh, for-” Vette rolled her eyes. “Lighten up Quinn.”

“I fail to see how my indulging your foolishness can be of any benefit to anyone,” he said, pulling on his own cloak to ward against the rain. “It will do nothing but decrease efficiency and tempt you to shirk your duties more regularly than you already do.”

He spun on his heel to face them, adjusting the buttons on his cloak before reaching beneath it and removing two thick cream coloured cards from an inside pocket. He passed them over while continuing their instructions. "These are your invitations," he said, handing one to Jaesa and one to Vette. "Make absolutely sure not to lose them, because you will not be allowed entry to the estate without these."

Jaesa stared down at the card in her hand, running a finger absently over the glossy red ink that proclaimed them to be honoured guests. It was thick and dark- almost the exact same colour of blood. When a raindrop fell on the card, and the ink began to bleed slowly downwards she shuddered and tucked it out of sight.

"Once you are admitted to the gala, do not speak unless spoken to. Do not draw attention to your recent Republic affiliations. Do not attempt to discuss politics with-”

“I thought this was a political dinner,” Jaesa interrupted. “What are we supposed to talk about if not politics?”

“If it is inevitable, make noncommittal answers and do your best to change the subject. Do not commit to any statement that you do not believe Lord Dara herself would be comfortable committing to.”

“What if _I_ want to commit to something?”

“That is not an option,” Quinn said patiently, tugging on a pair of gloves, “for you are there on her behalf, speaking with her voice. When you are in a position of influence that warrants you receiving your own invitations to events such as this, then you may speak with your own voice. Until then, you are bound to serve as her apprentice, serving her interests.”

He signalled to the droid maintaining the speeder service, and waited for it to be brought over to him. “I will go ahead to make sure that the lieutenant got Lord Dara safely back to her penthouse, and then I have appointments of my own to keep in the city. I shall of course have my holocom at hand at all times, but I suggest that you do your best to survive without it. It shall not reflect well upon you if you have to summon outside assistance.”

“It’s just _dinner_ , Quinn,” Jaesa said, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He nodded brusquely as the speeder was brought up alongside him. “Do your best to keep your hair out of the rain,” he said to Jaesa, slinging a leg over the machine. “If you arrive looking as if you’ve been dragged all the way from the spaceport by a vine cat it will hardly reflect well on Lord Dara.”

“Thank you for the style tips, Captain Fashionable,” Vette said mockingly. “Maybe I should sit on her head for extra protection?”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, Vette,” Quinn said. He nodded once more, a little more formally this time. “Good evening to you, ladies.”

The speeder roared to life and he disappeared down the trail, his cloak flying out behind him as he went. 

“Great,” Vette said scornfully, “he got mud on my coat.”

Jaesa sighed and waved the droid over wearily. “Speeder for two, thanks?” As a fork of lightning split the air over the jungle, followed by the most monstrous bellow of thunder that she had ever heard in her life, she said optimistically “I don’t suppose you have anything with a roof at all?”

***

They arrived an hour later, climbing the wide stone steps that were treacherously slippery in the rain. The hostess of the party- a contemporary of Tahrin’s, if she understood correctly, someone who had attended the Academy at the same time- had recently been elevated to the position of Sith Lord, and her father was apparently a Moff with considerable political influence in the border regions. That seemed to be all that was necessary to warrant an extravaganza.

As was the style in Dromund Kaas, two magnificently enormous Imperial banners hung from the outer walls, flanking the door, and they in turn were flanked by two smaller, less grandiose banners that appeared to be a family crest. 

“Well,” Jaesa said brightly, “that doesn’t look intimidating at _all_.”

Vette snickered. “Liar.” 

“Quiet you- aren’t consorts supposed to be silent and bashful?”

“How should I know? I’ve never had one before. Maybe we should tell them that you’re _my_ consort.”

“We could do that. Does anyone actually know I’m human?”

“Somehow I don’t think you’ll manage to pull off a plucky ex-slave and thief all that convincingly.”

Jaesa adopted an affronted expression. “Are you saying my acting skills are subpar?” 

Vette winked at her. “Gorgeous, you couldn’t act your way out of a wet paper bag,” she said, snaring her around the wrist and dragging her close. She kissed her softly on the mouth, the rain pattering down around them as they stood in the shadow palatial apartment complex.

In that moment, breathing in the warm scent of her love, Jaesa couldn’t imagine anything going wrong. With Vette at her side, she felt like she could take on the Emperor himself. 

She smiled against Vette’s lips. “Shall we get in out of the rain, and get this debacle over and done with?”

“Stars, yes. I’m already freezing in this dress.”

Grinning, Jaesa turned and climbed the last few steps, flexing her hands at her side to try and calm her nerves, before passing her hand over the guest bell.

She couldn’t hear a sound to indicate the bell had worked, and she hesitated, wondering whether to ring it again. She was just reaching for it when the door suddenly yawned open, a monstrous portal nearly three stories tall. Before her stood a rather uninterested and bland looking Chiss 

In the haughtiest tone she could manage, Jaesa drew herself upright and said “Apprentice Jaesa Willsaam and guest, here in place of my master, Lord Tahrin Dara, the right hand of Lord Baras, heir to Darth Vengean.”

The servant didn’t even blink at such a lineage. “Invitation?” he said in a monotone, extending his hand. In the shadows behind him, Jaesa could make out two rather bulky looking gentlemen in finely polished armour, and a smaller female figure who flickered on the edge of her Force periphery- a Sith bodyguard of some sort, but she was either very weak or very skilled at keeping her talent muted. 

Keeping her chin held high and her expression cold- she tried to mimic Tahrin- she offered up the invitations. She didn’t go so far as placing them in his outstretched hand though, holding them an inch or two short and making him reach for them. Clearly this was a common occurrence, because he didn’t even react other than to stretch the extra distance and take them from her. 

He spent a moment or two inspecting them, running them under his wrist scanner to check for authenticity- or at least, that’s what she assumed he was doing. She did her best to look impatient. 

Finally he nodded. “Very good, my lord,” he said, stepping aside to allow them entry. “If it pleases you, shall I take your cloaks?”

The atrium was a vast and opulent affair- dark marble underfoot, glittering crystal chandeliers overhead, fountains that cascaded from the very top floor of the complex all the way down to the ground. Soft music echoed faintly through the immense space, the sound of strings almost lost in the patter of the waterfalls. Imperial banners were hung at regular intervals, a vivid splash of red against the bleak black and white of the hall.

“So,” Vette murmured under her breath, “how many slaves do you think died to make this place? Is that a faux pas to ask, do you think? Maybe I should holo Quinn and ask.”

“ _Vette!_ ” Jaesa hissed, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure none of the servants were within hearing range.

“What? What if I were genuinely curious? They couldn’t just ignore me.”

“We aren’t to embarrass Tahrin,” Jaesa whispered, smiling thinly as the servant came back to fetch their cloaks. 

Vette clapped her hand in exaggerated delight. “Oh, that’s so kind of you,” she gushed, shimmying out of her coat and gesturing for the hapless servant to come forward and help her remove it. 

Jaesa felt her pulse race wildly at the way the cloak slid from Vette’s slender shoulders, her beautiful blue skin just faintly damp from the rain. The dress she wore exposed a great deal of it, her back bare and the fabric held up only by a clasp around her neck. As Vette fawned over the servant’s assistance, Jaesa could only stare.

She knew she was overdoing it on purpose, leaving the impression of a dim-witted, malleable young woman easily overawed- or at least, she had to assume that’s what she was doing. They hadn’t discussed it beforehand, after all, but it made sense. Let them underestimate her, let them assume them to be weak and impressionable young girls- it could only help them to have any potential enemies dismiss them as inconsequential.

But _stars_ \- Jaesa couldn’t care less about the party and politics in that moment. All she wanted to do was to press Vette up against the wall and kiss slowly down her spine, collecting the raindrops with her tongue, feeling her tremble beneath her mouth as she held her in place and indulged herself.

She took a deep breath and glanced away; now was not the time. 

_Later_ , she promised herself.


	4. Chapter 4

With their coats safely tucked away in the cloakroom, the servant showed them through what appeared to be nothing short of a labyrinth, the house a winding maze of glittering corridors and opulently appointed rooms. She grew dizzy just trying to keep track of their path, trying to memorise her steps in case she had to retrace them in a hurry. Never enter a situation where you do not have an exit strategy planned in advance- it had been one of the first things Tahrin had taught her. 

Granted, the very next thing she had said was that most good plans, no matter how finely detailed, would inevitably fall to pieces, but the point remained- one simply did not walk blindly into the stronghold of a Sith Lord without knowing where the exit was. Even if the Sith Lord was allegedly an ally.

 _Especially_ if the Sith Lord was allegedly an ally.

The doorman stopped before a decadently carved door, bowing sharply to them. “I will leave you in the capable hands of Tal’dira,” he said, rapping twice on the door. “Should you require anything, he will see to your needs. Do not hesitate to request his assistance.”

He turned and left, marching promptly back down the corridor; as he did, the door before them slid smoothly open, revealing a cosy little suite and a Twi’lek standing smartly to attention in the middle of the room.

“My lord,” he said, nodding his head respectfully. “Please, come in.”

Jaesa glanced at Vette, who quirked her lips in place of a shrug. This wasn’t exactly the party they’d been told to expect.

“Please, my lord, if you would enter, we can begin.”

Well, that wasn’t at all peculiar. Trying to keep her face straight, she crossed the threshold and entered the room, taking note of the rich decor, the plush carpet underfoot, the couches, the small table piled high with plates of elegant food and decanters of intriguingly coloured liquids. The room smelled of spice and wine, and her mouth watered despite her nerves- such decadent offerings were far beyond her normal fare, and the lure of the colours and the scents was strong indeed. 

The door eased closed behind them, and Jaesa did her best to ignore the niggle of doubt in her stomach that insisted this was nothing but a trap. 

The Twi’lek- Tal’dira?- smiled at them, though it did not reach his eyes. “Lord Willsaam. My master, the Dark Lord Calliana, bids you welcome. This is your retreat, provided by my master, for your enjoyment and relaxation. Should you require a reprieve at all throughout the evening, you and your slave may take your rest here. All the refreshments made available to you in the ballroom will also be made available to you in here. And you will be completely uninterrupted.”

Jaesa blinked. “Wait, um...” Oh stars, that didn’t make her sound like a confident Sith at all. And Lord? She wasn’t a lord yet, was she? “Vette is not my slave,” she said, lifting her chin. “She is my, um... consort.”

“Her guest,” Vette finished smoothly, her hand wrapped gracefully around her upper arm. “And I am _ever_ grateful for her patronage and affection.”

It sounded cloying, sycophantic- it didn’t sound like the woman she loved at all. The words were insincere, overly eager, and her hands were a little too forward, fingers brushing deliberately against the curve of her breast as she clung to her arm.

 _It is only an act_ , she told herself, turning her head just fractionally to the side, so that she did not have to see the false infatuation in Vette’s eyes. _You are not precisely showing a great deal of affection to her_.

But she hid her feelings for Vette so as not to bring the ire of her future enemies down upon her; she masked the depths of her love so as not to appear hopelessly smitten, a wretched fool with a wretched weakness. She did not want Vette to find her tiresome, and claim that the risks for loving her were too great.

She knew that Vette was merely performing, but something in her chest ached to see it. She wished they did not have to hide behind veils of secrecy and lies, half truths muddying the waters until no one could know for sure what was false and what was not. 

She wished she knew her heart.

Her crisis of faith happened in the space of a half second, of course, and neither one of the Twi’leks were aware of it. Tal’dira did not even blink at Vette’s performance, instead nodding his head in a gesture of respect, though his expression was blank. “Of course, my lord- apologies to you and your consort. Do you wish to make use of your suite, or shall I have your arrival made public?”

 _I have made a mess of this so far._ “We shall join the party,” she said, lifting her nose into the air. Stars, how did Tahrin do it? How did she seem so cold and uncaring with so little effort? “It is hardly right to deprive Lord Calliana of our presence.”

Tal’dira nodded at them, his lips pressed into a thin line that conveyed nothing friendly, and said “One moment, my lord. I shall announce you momentarily, once there is a break in the entertainment.”

Jaesa nodded her thanks, doing her best to remain serene and cool; he pushed aside a curtain that she had assumed looked over a garden, and instead caught a glimpse of a dark marble ballroom, alight with the the glitter of a monstrous chandelier. The murmur of noise that she had thought to be more fountains surged upwards, and she realised it was the whisper of a hundred hushed conversations, the susurrations like the slither of water over stone. He slipped away, the curtain settling back into place and the sound muted again; the moment he was out of hearing range she heaved out the breath that she’d been holding, and her shoulders slumped.

“Good start,” Vette said admirably under her breath, rubbing her arm in small comforting circles. “The butler got your title wrong, called me a slave and you’re terrified of him. I can tell this evening is going to go swimmingly.”

Jaesa grimaced. “You can make jokes all you want, but if they take me out, I’m taking you with me.”

“You do that, I’m going to haunt your corpse.”

“That...” Jaesa stopped and pictured that for a moment, and covered her mouth with her hand to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. “That is an appalling thought.”

Vette was grinning. “I don’t know, I figure I know my way around your body pretty well by now. I don’t think you’d look too much like a drunken undead puppet if I was in control.”

Jaesa blushed at Vette’s sly tone. “Need I remind you that you are here as the part of my consort? Perhaps I should confine you to this room and have my way with you.”

Vette feigned a swoon, leaning against her intimately. “Oooh, my lord, I am but a slave to your whims.”

That immediately roused a scowl from her. “You’re _not_ my slave,” she said hotly. 

Before Vette could answer, Tal’dira peered around the curtain. “They are ready, my lord,” he said; if he took note of the tension in the room, he did not comment on it at all. 

She nodded jerkily. “Fine, then. Let’s do this.”

“Not the most confident introduction,” Vette murmured as the servant vanished from view again.

“Well, I’m sort of going in blind here,” she snapped, then winced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is more difficult than I was expecting.”

Vette shrugged. “I get it,” she said. “It’s okay to be stressed, sweetheart.”

Trying her best to shake off the sense of foreboding that was hanging over her, Jaesa rolled her shoulders, attempting to dispel the tension in her back. “I can do this,” she muttered under her breath. “I can do this. Not terrifying at all. I can do this.”

Vette squeezed her hand tightly, and smiled when she glanced over. “ _We_ can do this,” she corrected, tucking her arm through Jaesa’s. 

Jaesa smiled weakly at her. “I feel like they’ve thrown fresh blood in the water, and we’re about to stupidly jump in for a swim.”

“Well, that’s a horrifying image I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of any time soon- _thanks love_.”

A booming voice cut through the air, offering a much more magnificent introduction than she felt she warranted. “Jaesa Willsaam, Apprentice to the Dark Lord Tahrin Dara, and guest.”

“No time,” Jaesa whispered, cutting her off as the curtain before them parted, bathing them in light and exposing them to the glitter and cruelty of the Imperial guests.

As they entered, a ripple of whispers ran through the crowd, and Jaesa stiffened as she noticed the expressions on the faces of those who turned to watch their arrival. Smiles that never quite extended to their eyes, eager ambition and opportunism lurking behind masks of jaded boredom. She didn’t need to focus on her gift at all- in this enclosed space, with so many Sith, she could feel the darkness in their hearts. It was as sickening as it was intoxicating, the vile seething mess of greed and cruelty and malice threaded through with the most seductive vein of power and confidence. It battered her from all sides, the lure of power with the poisonous recoil of the darker emotions. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Vette murmured, smiling through gritted teeth. The crowd was still watching them, though the immediate interest was waning. People were returning to their conversations, their eyes following them curiously as they descended the stairs. “You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

Jaesa swallowed down the wave of nausea, reining in the fierce surge of fascination that had latched onto the display of power in the room. “I’m okay,” she said, patting Vette’s hand. “That was just a bit more than I was expecting.”

‘Your eyes went red for a moment.”

Vette’s voice was calm, but there was a tiny niggle of fear in her heart. Jaesa was horrified. 

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, clenching her jaw to keep a lid on her own emotions. They reached the base of the stairs and stepped out onto the fine black marble, the ballroom spread out before them like a labyrinth of social challenges that she hardly even understood, let alone knew how to conquer. “I’m fine now.”

There was a Togruta female standing on a low podium by the wall, her voice exquisitely haunting as she sang mournfully. When she hit the high notes, the crystals around the room sang in harmony, an eerie whine that made Jaesa shiver. The strings that she had heard from the atrium were coming a quartet of Chiss seated just to the side of the Togruta, their expressions blank as they accompanied her.

“My dear Jaesa,” came a velvet smooth voice from behind her, and Jaesa turned out of reflex to hearing her name. A pureblood Sith woman stood behind them, diminutive and dainty in appearance. Her skin was a deep crimson colour, and golden ornaments adorned her facial ridges, glittering in the light of the crystal chandelier. She smiled widely, her teeth sharpened to points. “I was quite dismayed to hear that Tahrin would not be joining us this evening. She and I are dear friends, after all.”

“Really?” Jaesa blurted out, unable to help herself. She felt Vette dig her nails in to her arm as a warning, and reigned herself in. “That is, I am simply surprised- my master is not a woman known to garner affection in those around her.”

The Sith continued to smile in that eerily predatory way, clasping her hands together before her. “Ahh, but she was young once, as we all were,” she said, almost wistfully. “But where are my manners? What sort of hostess am I, to berate you for your master’s shortcomings without even introducing myself.”

The words, though spoken with some degree of fondness, were jarring in their mockery. It was all Jaesa could do not to stutter in confusion. “That is, um, quite alright my lord,” she said, mentally kicking herself for the stumble. “I was just as much at fault.”

“Of course, child,” she said. “I forget, you have only recently come to us- you are not yet accustomed to our ways. Your ignorance is forgivable, for the time being at least.”

“I, uh...” What could she say to that? “Thank you?”

“You are most welcome, Jaesa,” she said, purring her name in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Allow me to introduce myself more formally- I am Lord Calliana, apprentice to Lord Elthenon. Tahrin and I came through the Academy together, although luckily for her we both caught the eye of different masters. It saddens me to think what might have befallen her if I had been forced to compete against her.”

“Yes, it is a shame that Tahrin has such strong connections to the Dark Council,” Jaesa said snidely, unable to help herself. “How unfortunate for her.”

Lord Calliana’s smile sharpened, her eyes darkening. “Ahh, but she is being coddled, is she not? It is obvious to all that she is simply being groomed for the position, a sycophant and nothing more. But for those of us with the skill and determination to rise through the ranks ourselves? We are the ones who will have our names carved on distant stars.”

“I’d rather have my name carved on the front door of a mansion here in Kaas City, but that’s just me.”

“Your dreams are small, my dear- understandable, really. Those years with the Jedi have likely stunted your growth in many ways. It’s sad to see.”

Jaesa gaped at her. What on earth was she supposed to say to that?

“Yes, it’s such a shame that someone with a history with the Jedi could have such superior connections to the Dark Council than those who have dedicated their lives to such an honour,” Vette said with false sympathy. “I guess they place more merit on talent and sheer power, rather than just bloodlines.”

Calliana’s expression darkened, the bejewelled tentacles on her chin seething with displeasure. “The great shame of the Empire,” she said coldly. “To ignore our great heritage and great houses is to see us become naught but a rabble of mongrels.”

Jaesa finally understood the meaning of the phrase _to raise her hackles_. “Well, if you’re concerned about descending into a mob, your singer has no shoes on,” she said pointedly, gesturing in the direction of the opera singer. 

Lord Calliana smiled broadly, her expression almostly gleefully predatory. Jaesa had a feeling she had faltered, but she had no idea how. “It is Togruta custom- it is an old belief of theirs, that if they walk barefoot on the soil of their land, they will be connected spiritually to the planet. It is a quaint notion, but I do like to indulge the whims of my slaves on occasion.” 

Jaesa glanced from the singer and back to Calliana. “Why do you have her standing on marble, then?” Jaesa asked, vaguely sickened by the smug delight exuding from the Sith. “This isn’t exactly her home world, and she’s not really able to commune with the planet through a marble floor.”

“Togruta also don’t tend to do well in solitary company,” Vette said flatly. “They like to be in family groups.”

Calliana clucked her tongue at them loudly, a disapproving sound that had several other guests glancing in their direction. “She’s not an _animal_ , my dears,” she said patronizingly. “I shudder to think just how poorly you must treat your inferiors, if you look down on other races so severely. Tell me- was that one of your reasons for defecting?”

Before Jaesa had a chance to respond, Calliana glanced past her shoulder. “And you must forgive me, but Admiral Harkis has just arrived, and I must greet him. He is a dear friend of the family.” She smiled, but it was clear she had already dismissed them. “Enjoy the evening, won’t you my dears?”

She swept past them, her smug arrogance bleeding from her like a second skin as she left them gaping in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick word of thanks to Jess (asariboyfriend) for letting me steal Lane, her Chiss Agent

Jaesa let out an explosive breath, her shoulders sagging violently. Her fingers were twitching with the need to strangle Calliana, and she could feel the occasional flicker of power writhing over her skin. “I don’t know how Tahrin does it,” she said through clenched teeth.

Vette’s fingers were drawing soothing patterns onto the inside of her arm. “I’m fairly sure that Tahrin wouldn’t have made it as far into the conversation as you,” she said wryly. “She’s fairly limited at small talk, after all.”

“You aren’t suggesting that Tahrin would have snubbed another Darth in public, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m saying Tahrin would have shot her in the face and moved onto the buffet.”

Jaesa guffawed, covering her mouth with her hand quickly when a few other guests glanced her way. “I’m fairly sure I’ve made a mess of the whole evening, with or without shooting people in the face, and we’ve only been here for half an hour.” She sighed and glanced around the room, her eyes drifting towards a table laden with food and the servants that ghosted silently through the room bearing trays of drinks. She was surprised at the number of people that met her gaze without trying to hide their curiosity, and had to hide her revulsion at the number of them that made no secret of their cruelty and their lechery. 

One person in particular caught her eye, and when he didn’t flinch away from her gaze, she stared back in confusion. There was something in his face that suggested familiarity. “That Chiss over there,” Jaesa murmured, “do you know him?”

Vette turned in the direction she was looking and squinted. “Which one? The one with the scars?”

“Yes. He’s been staring at us for about five minutes, and he looks like he knows us.”

“He looks sort of... horrified,” Vette said dubiously.

Jaesa nodded furiously. “That’s what I thought. Do you know him at all? Is he someone from your past?”

“Why does it have to be someone from my past? Why can’t it be someone from your past?”

“There’s not a lot of Chiss in Republic space, actually.”

Vette let out a rude sound. “Of course there are. Just because you never saw them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

They had wandered close to the buffet table, and Jaesa eyed it with some slight trepidation. 

“Do we just... take the food, do you suppose?” she whispered under her breath. “I was expecting a formal dinner, from what Quinn said.”  
Vette craned her neck, looking up and down the length of the table. “I don’t see any plates,” she replied. “Are we just supposed to pick it up and eat with our hands?”

“Maybe I’m supposed to use the Force,” Jaesa giggled, wiggling her fingers. “I could feed you.”

“Could you now?” Vette said slyly, her eyes darkening with interest. “That would be something I’d be interested to try some time.”

Jaesa recognised the husky tone of her voice. “Well then,” she said, “maybe I’ll have to make a note of that for later.”

“A rather bold move,” a sultry voice said from behind them, “keeping your slave without a collar.” 

“Unless she keeps the collar somewhere more subtle,” came a second, more nasally than the first. Jaesa spun about to find two Sith lords observing them, both women wearing excessive leather ensembles studded with diamonds that winked in the light of the chandeliers. They looked rather ridiculous, in her opinion- like smaller, mobile versions of the chandelier itself. “I hear that Darth Soralis has very special collars custom made,” the woman continued, “that are very titillating to wear, if the rumours are true.”

Jaesa blinked at them in stunned horror. “I think you misunderstand- Vette is _not_ my slave,” she said incredulously. People just randomly began conversations with one another at these parties about sex and slaves? “She is my _consort_. We are _equals_.”

“Plus she doesn’t need to put a shock collar on my lady parts to get me off,” Vette said with a straight face, apparently not as shocked as Jaesa was by the introduction. 

The two women looked aghast. “You let your slave speak back to her betters?”

Jaesa stared at them. “I j _ust said_ -”

“Of course I’m not allowed to speak back to my betters,” Vette said smoothly. “My master would never allow it. But of course that presumes I’m in the presence of my betters.”

Both Sith lords recoiled in horror- you would have assumed someone had just mutilated a child in front of them, judging by their expressions. “Call your whore to task, girl. You cannot hide behind your master’s skirt when she is not here.”

Jaesa hesitated, flailing about desperately for something to say. Did she attempt to repair the situation, or just speak her mind and get it over and done with? 

The first woman smirked at her hesitation. “And she stands frozen, like a child caught in the path of a speeder.” She laughed delightedly. “Your master should know better than to send a delicate flower like yourself into a rancor pit. You have no place here, girl.”

“Oh, I can see the family resemblance now that you’ve said it,” Vette said brightly. “Was your mother a rancor, or your father?”

The woman gaped at her, stunned, and then her face twisted into a seething mask of fury. She drew back her hand as if she were about to slap Vette, and Jaesa responded without thinking. She hadn't perfected the skill by any means, but she'd been practising under Tahrin's watchful eye- she grabbed hold of the woman's wrist using only the Force, and wrenched it backwards. The Sith Lord staggered, clearly not expecting the move, and the scandalised expression on her face as she righted herself was almost worth ruining the evening. 

_Almost._

"Do not," she said, as calmly as she could manage, "touch her."

The other Sith had rushed to her side, fussing over her as she cast scathing looks in their direction. "You will pay for that, girl," the first hissed venomously, collecting herself with as much dignity as she could muster.

The two of them stalked off into the crowd, drawing a few titters of cruel laughter as they went. 

With the immediate threat gone, Jaesa heaved out a sigh. “This is a disaster,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Give it time,” Vette said cheerfully. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.” 

“Is that Chiss still staring? Maybe we should go talk to him, since he seems to know who we are.”

“My lord.” They turned to see a Chiss servant standing behind them, a bland smile on his face as he bowed to her. “I have been informed that you have encountered some unpleasantness.” 

Jaesa blinked at him, surprised. “Um... yes? We have?” What precisely did he think he was going to do about it? 

He smiled again, and nodded. “We can arrange a table for your Twi’lek with the other slaves in the kitchen,” the servant said mildly. “You can send someone to collect her when you are ready to depart.”

Jaesa saw red. “For the last time, she’s not my slave!” she snapped, the volume of her voice enough to have the people closest to them turning to see what the fuss was about. 

A set of hands clapped down on her shoulders, and she was tugged backwards against a very firm and very male body. The hands slid down her shoulders slightly and back up again, a motion that was clearly supposed to be seductive. 

“There, there, little one,” came a rumbling voice in her ear. She could feel his breath on her face, smell the rancid scents of raw meat and burnt spices. “Let them take your whore away to sit with her kind- you can mingle freely with your peers without her clinging to your side.”

“If you don’t take your hands off me,” Jaesa said firmly, trying to pull away even as his fingers tightened, “I’ll see to it that you don’t have hands.” She didn’t precisely want to make a scene, but she really didn’t want to stand and smile politely while an ancient and lecherously Sith lord felt her up. 

He chuckled, his hands sweeping over her shoulders again. It made her skin crawl. “You have much potential for a woman raised in the light,” he said, his lips close enough to touch her ear. She recoiled sharply and he chuckled again. “You have much darkness in you.”

A blaster bolt went just over their heads, the high pitched screech of the laser bringing the party to a thundering halt.

“You might want to step away from my girl there,” Vette said in a loud voice, her words echoing to every corner of the ballroom. She held the blaster firmly, her expression- if anything- bored. But her stance was aggressive and her hand did not waver from its aim.

Jaesa didn’t even know where Vette had been hiding the blaster, to be honest. 

The hands on her shoulders tightened, fingertips digging in painfully, and Jaesa winced. “Do you know who I am?” came the rumbling voice from behind her.

“I don’t give a shit who you are,” Vette said bluntly, her eyes narrowed dangerously, “take your hands off my girl.” 

“You should let your master speak, little whore; you are not her mouth piece. You are naught but an ant to me- I can flay you with my mind, enjoying your screams and pleas without even moving an inch. What do you say to that?”

Vette shrugged. “Can’t do that if you’ve got a hole in your head, now, can you?”

The next shot was aimed at his face, and Vette didn’t even flinch as she pulled the trigger- no hesitation at all. 

Jaesa lurched out of the way, tearing herself free of his grasp as she threw herself to the floor and out of the path of the blaster. She could have sworn she felt the heat of the bolt as it passed her, and she heard the screech of it making contact- and then a moment later, a second and louder screech that seemed to ricochet a thousand times over, a ringing echo that took forever to dissipate in the silence.

For a long horrified moment the room was still, and Jaesa hesitantly lifted her head, leaning on her elbow as she surveyed the aftermath of the attack.

Vette still had the pistol aimed directly at the Sith lord, who was looming over Jaesa with a furious scowl on his face. He had his own hand outstretched, and glove still smouldering from where the laser bolt had landed on the palm. Following the burn mark, Jaesa glanced upwards and cringed when she realised the shot must have bounced off his hand and straight into the immense chandelier.

Looking down with a growing sense of horror, Jaesa spotted the numerous little sparkling crystals that lay in a messy circle around them.

Oh, _stars_.

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ” Calliana screeched, swooping in from nowhere, her dress billowing out behind her like a malevolent storm cloud. Her face was twisted in rage and the feelers on her chin were all but seething in fury. 

Jaesa had nothing, no words she could use to explain what had just taken place. The stares of the guests, dozens upon dozens of cruel gazes delighting in her humiliation and shame, the weight of their eyes dragging-

“Nothing to worry your pretty self about,” Vette said casually, not taking her eyes off the Sith Lord behind Jaesa. “Just a little discussion about boundaries-”

“ _You just shot my chandelier!_ ”

“No, I shot _him_ ,” Vette said, gesturing with her gun. “He was the one who felt it necessary to bring the chandelier into things.”

Calliana looked utterly livid. Jaesa could feel the flux of power around her, the seething lure of the Force as it gathered around her like a dark cloud. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you both here and now?” she hissed, her hands curled into claws at her side.

“It’ll stain your outfit,” Vette said, without missing a beat.

“I will escort them out.”

The speaker was calm, almost bored in his tone, completely uninterested- he had one hand in his pocket and he was examining the fingernails on his other, as if the state of his nails was more fascinating than a stand off between several Sith and an armed Twi’lek consort.

It was the Chiss who had been watching them all evening, his scars even more gruesome when seen at close range. He had sauntered up beside Calliana, his crisp white Imperial uniform and deep blue skin a sharp contrast to the blacks and reds of the Sith woman. He glanced up at Calliana, and smirked, clearly amused by something. “Unless you’d rather just kill them now and be done with it.”

Jaesa bristled. “I hardly need you to intervene on my behalf,” she snapped, scrambling to her feet and drawing herself up to her full height. Which, to be fair, wasn’t really all that intimidating in such company.

His gaze flickered to hers for a moment, his maimed lips twisting in smug amusement. “You do if you want to to walk out of here, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, and Jaesa gaped at him. Who precisely was this man, that he could just swan about in the presence of admirals and dark lords and interrupt a stand off as if it was beneath him to do so? 

“I’ll spare you the trouble of having to kill them,” he said calmly, this statement directed at Calliana.

She sneered at him. “You would take my sport away from me?” she hissed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said into the hushed silence of the ballroom. His accent was careful, as if he was very deliberately pronouncing each word. Jaesa had no idea whether it was due to the scars on his face, or whether he’d practised the drawl of a Kaas citizen until he could mimic it perfectly. “But even you know better than to touch someone with the protection of Vengean and Baras.”

“They have sullied the peace of my gathering, and defiled my offer of hospitality.”

“I gave Darth Grabby Hands plenty of time to stop groping my woman,” Vette said bluntly. 

The Chiss smirked again and leaned in close to Calliana, his hand going familiarly around her upper arm as he whispered something for her ears alone. Jaesa couldn’t help but strain to hear, and she wasn’t alone- nearly every guest in the ballroom leaned forward to try and catch his words.

It was all in vain of course- he clearly wasn’t foolish by any stretch of the imagination. 

When he stepped back at last and let her go, silence hung heavily in the room. Calliana glared at him, her eyes clearly indicating that she’d very much for him to catch on fire. For a long moment she just stared, her face working with frustration and anger.“Get rid of them,” she spat finally, stomping away from him and towards the crowd which wisely parted for her.

The whispers started immediately, and a moment or two later the sounds of string music drifted through the room again. A half dozen silent servants appeared out of nowhere and knelt to deal with the broken shards of crystal, while the Chiss stood in the midst of the chaos and shook his head with a smile. 

He glanced over at Jaesa. “We’d best not try her patience,” he said casually, indicating the far side of the room with a jerk of his head. “If you ladies would care to follow me?”

Jaesa and Vette glanced at each other; Vette shrugged and tucked her blaster into the belt of her gown, rather obvious and easily within reach should she need it again. Damn it all, where had she been hiding it? It hadn’t even occurred to Jaesa to come armed to this dinner. 

They fell in behind him in silence, and Jaesa kept her head held high and ignored the stares of the other guests, who parted before them as if they were diseased.

She was a Sith- she would not show fear.

_It might be a bit late for that._

He held open a door for them, a perfect gentlemen, and Jaesa did her best not to stare at him as she brushed past. Who was he, that he felt comfortable sparring with a Sith on their behalf- two young women whom he had seemingly never met before?

Jaesa all but threw herself into Vette’s arms the moment they were out of sight of the ballroom, kissing every part of her that she could reach.

“You stupid woman,” she whispered, cupping her face between her hands and kissing her soundly. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she gazed at her, her brash and foolish lover. She couldn’t stop touching her, as if she were half afraid she would vanish from beneath her fingers if she let go of her for even a moment. 

“You’re sending mixed messages, love,” Vette said, smiling and laughing softly as she returned each kiss just as firmly, her hands locked around her waist as she held her close. 

“He could have killed you,” Jaesa whispered urgently, desperately. “She _was_ going to kill you-”

“And you fought an entire platoon of Mandalorians for me- what’s one or two measly Sith lord compared to that?”

She couldn’t help but guffaw at that. “It was _hardly_ a platoon-”

The Chiss agent cleared his throat rather pointedly and they turned their heads to face him, reluctant to let go of one another. “Might I suggest you consider a more appropriate venue for your amorous endeavours?” he said, amusement and impatience in his tone. 

“Who are you, even?” Vette said instead, her arms still firmly locked around Jaesa’s waist. “And why do you know us?”

“ _How_ do I know you,” he corrected, and then ignored the rest of her question. “Shall we?”

They had nothing else to do but trust him and follow him, because they certainly didn’t have any means of escaping on their own. Granted, they could probably have fumbled about through the labyrinthine halls and eventually made their way out, but who knew how long that might have taken? Better to trust their bizarre rescuer for now, and work out his motivation later. 

He led them through seemingly endless rooms and hallways, apparently well acquainted with the layout of the estate. He never hesitated or stopped to consider his bearings, and Jaesa quickly grew dizzy from the twists and turns. But then she could feel the humid cool of the night, the way the cold seemed to swim around her like a lover’s touch, and she could smell the rain again, and she knew they were nearly free.

The moment they were out of the building he signalled to one of the footmen for a speeder, stopping to light a cigarette when the man ducked out of sight. He breathed in the smoke, his shoulders relaxing. He didn’t speak, or offer up an explanation for his actions inside, despite having to know just how immensely curious they had to be.

“Why did you help us back there?” Jaesa asked, unable to help herself.

He laughed softly, a single chuckle that hinted at weariness and disgust. “Because I hate these parties,” he said, “and you’ve just given me the most fun I’ve had at one of these things in years.”

“Why do you come to them, then?”

“Same reason you do,” he said cryptically, and then fell silent again.

The speeder rounded the corner and came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, the footman jumping out and waiting patiently by the door to help them in. 

Their rescuer took a drag on the cigarette, the scars along his face making the motion slightly stiff as he breathed out. “You can let Tahrin know she owes me another favour,” he said, the smoke curling from his nostrils. “She can add it to the tally.”

“The tally?”

“She’ll know what it means,” he said, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with his boot. He bowed sharply to them. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies-”

“Wait!” Jaesa said, curiosity burning in her. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” he said simply. “And we’ll leave it at that.”

He turned to go, despite the protests that both of them began to voice and he paused again. “By the way, he said, “you lasted a little over an hour, which means you lasted a half hour longer than your master. Not a bad effort, all things considered.”

“We lasted... what?”

He smiled and shook his head. “The last time I enjoyed myself at a party like this was your master’s debut into high society. She only lasted half an hour before she was thrown out. So you’ve outdone her- congratulations are in order.”

Saying that, he half saluted in their direction and then sauntered back up the steps and back into the estate.

Her mouth agape, Jaesa looked back to Vette to see that her lover looked just as stunned as she did. “We... outdid Tahrin?” she said incredulously.

And then they were laughing, arms around one another as they spun on the steps, the rain pattering softly around them. They had survived, and more importantly, they had done it together. The whole evening seemed ridiculously surreal, a parody more than reality.

“You shot a Sith Lord for me,” Jaesa said, wiping the rain away from her face as she laughed.

“It’s only fair,” Vette said, grinning just as broadly. “Now we’re even.”

They kissed again, laughing and kissing as they stood beneath the dark night sky and celebrated their survival, ignoring the rain and ignoring the footman patiently waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.

They were alive- and Jaesa had never been so glad to have Vette by her side.


End file.
